


All The Madness You Carry

by DeadMilitia



Category: Sleeping With Sirens
Genre: Dark Thoughts, Depression, Mentions of Suicide, Past Abuse, fatherless - Freeform, fears, late night wondering, mentions of abuse, over-thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:06:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadMilitia/pseuds/DeadMilitia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kellin's abusive father left four years ago, but he can't let it go. He lays in bed and wonders why he wasn't good enough. All he wants is to understand how his dad could be so heartless. And if nobody else was going to help him, he would figure it out himself. </p><p>ONESHOT!</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Madness You Carry

**Author's Note:**

> Story title comes from Crying Out by Shinedown.

For the most part I was okay. I was as happy as I could be. But there were memories that never left my head. I played them over and over every time I had the time. Picking apart what happened and trying to making sense of everything. Nobody else was going to help me figure it out, so I took it upon myself to understand. That's easier said than done though.

In all honesty, I wasn't that upset that my parents had divorced. It ended all of the pain. What I wanted to know was why I had to endure the pain in the first place. The screaming, the harsh words, the abuse, the fear, the tears. What reason did my dad have to treat us that way? I couldn't wrap my head around it.

The times of my dad putting me down. The times he pointed out things about me only to tell me that I would never get a girl to like me unless I changed those things. It still kills me. Especially the things I can't change. Those hurt the most.

I couldn't understand why nobody else cared. Why I always felt like I was screaming and crying for help, but everyone ignored it. It was like they couldn't hear me. Or maybe they just really don't care. Maybe they think I should be over this by now. And maybe I should be, but I couldn't help it. Four years didn't seem to be enough time for me to heal. Not when I had no clue how to heal. Not when nobody was willing to teach me how to heal.

Most people didn't know half of the memories though. Some who did chose to pretend it was all okay. Telling me that the monster who did those things was still my father and I should still love him. They tell me that he had to love my mom at some point otherwise he wouldn't have married her. Some even went as far as to say that they were sure my dad had loved _me_ at some point. Sometimes I like to think that he did. But his hatred of me was stronger and more common.

One of the memories always made chills run down my spine. For the first year after he left for good, the memory terrified me. It made me have to get out of bed at three in the morning and check for smoke. I made sure all of the smoke detectors had batteries in every room.

 _"If you kick me out, I'll burn this house down with you and those kids trapped inside."_ I remember my dad's threat from that night. It scared me still because what if he comes back for revenge?

 _"I'll slit your throat in your sleep and I'll make sure the kids are here to watch it."_ That threat made me have to get up and check on my mom in the middle of the night. Just to make sure she was still there and alive. I also would frequently check the locks on the doors, just to be safe.

 _"Keep crying and I'll bash your fucking head into the wall!"_ That one was directed at my little sister. She was only three years old at the time. That was the day I vowed to never leave her alone with him. If he was going to hurt her, he would have to kill me first.

The memory of him firing a gun to get us to do what he said, trying to get us all to come outside with him still holding that gun. The memory of not being able to live in our own house because it wasn't safe. Somehow he knew where we went and when. It was terrifying because there was no way to hide from him. We stopped driving Mom's car in fear he was tracking us. And when that didn't stop him from knowing where we were, we hid from him. We were all too afraid to sleep in fear that he would find us.

I tried to understand why this all hurt so much. I should hate him for everything he put us through, but I don't. I have sympathy for him. I just want to know why he decided he wanted us dead. He wasn't always like that. He was always mean, but only with words. He would tell us why we weren't good enough and get mad at us for stupid things. But he never threatened our lives or even made us feel like he was. He was just a dad with anger problems. So what changed?

I don't understand how I could want him back. I don't want the pain, fear, and hurtful words back. I don't want him I want a new version of him. I want a dad. I don't want to feel so broken and confused every Father's Day. I want to know who my dad really is. I had thirteen years with him and I can't tell you his middle name or when his birthday is. I don't know anything about him. We spent time together before he changed but we didn't bond. We lived in the same house for thirteen years, but we didn't know each other.

Part of me never wanted to see him again. I wasn't sure I could handle standing in front of him. I'm terrified of him and I don't think that will ever change. But part of me wanted to yell at him. I want to hurt him the way he hurt me. I want to say things that break his heart. I want to make him cry. I want to hurt him. I know nothing I say could do any of that. For anything I say to hurt him, he would have to care enough about me to never want to hear those things. I'm sure it wouldn't surprise him to hear me say hateful things towards him.

I tried to understand why he fought so hard to get visitation rights with us kids only to ignore us when we were at his house. He acted like we were a burden that was ruining his weekend. He would put on a movie for us and go to the other room, trying his hardest to stay away from us. So why did he fight for us if he didn't even want us? Was it just another attack? Making our mom sit at home alone all weekend and worry about what could be happening to her kids. Making us spend the weekend no more than a few feet from each other at any time out of fear. We were so scared that we slept in the same bed even though we didn't have to. We were terrified to be at his house.

I tried to understand why going to a lake with him had me so scared I thought I was going to pass out. Especially when he asked if we had our cell phones on us. We lied and said they were back at the house only to have him nod his head. I faked being sick so he would take us home. Thank God it worked and we were safe. No child should have to fear being drowned or shot and dumped in a lake by their own father.

I didn't want to dwell on the bad memories, but I couldn't help it. The memories stayed in the back of my mind most of the time and made themselves the main focus whenever I had time to think. I just want to understand. I don't want to be confused, hurt, angry, and sad all of the time. I just want to know why this all happened. There had to be a reason, right? There's no way my family would be dealt such a horrible hand without getting a better one next. Right?

I want to understand why I can't understand everything. I want to know why it matters so much. Why can't I just accept that it happened and that it's in the past? Why can't I just accept that I'm safe now? Why do I live in constant fear that he's going to show back up? Why do I still have nightmares that don't seem like nightmares?

The most recent nightmare was simply Mom and Dad getting back together. She believed he had truly changed and wouldn't listen to anyone who said otherwise. He acted different, but every time he looked at me, he had this scary smile. Like he was letting me know my suspicions were right. He never turned back into that monster in my dreams though. He was always the dad I wanted, but there was always that scary smile anytime he looked my way. The smile was reserved only for me. He never showed it to anyone else.

I want to understand why he did what he did. I want him to tell me why he did it all. But I was afraid the answer would be the same as in one of my nightmares.

 _"Because you deserved it."_ Did we deserve it? What does a person, especially a child, have to do to deserve a hell like that?

I want to understand why I feel like I deserved it. I want to understand why my life turned out the way it did. I want to understand why I want to end my life. Why do I think that will solve everything? Why do I think that it would take a lot of weight off of my mom's shoulders? Why do I feel like that's the only way I would ever make my dad cry? Would he actually care that I was dead? Would he regret what he had done? Would he wish he could take it back?

I want to understand why I'm still suffering after four years, but still happy. Even on my bad days, when I want to die, I still feel grateful for life. I still feel like I'll be okay. Maybe I don't really want to die but I feel like I deserve it? That was one reason nobody took me seriously. Nobody is at risk of killing themselves if they still believe they'll be okay. Nobody knows how close I had gotten to ending it all. They still chose to pretend like that part of me didn't exist. Even the people who had seen my cuts. I was just happy. That was it.

I want to know what it's like to have normal thoughts. To not dwell on the past. To not pick it apart and hope to find something new that would explain everything. To not feel like I was going crazier and crazier with every passing day.

I want to understand.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so everything that happened in this is what my dad actually did to my mom, my two sisters, and myself. This is not the full story though, just parts of it.  
> This was technically just me writing out my thoughts and giving them to Kellin. I wrote this a while back when I was having a hard night with no intentions of it being a story. I decided to post it because maybe it will comfort someone else to know that they're not alone. I know the struggle of having an abusive parent doesn't leave when they do. We all struggle and deal with it in our own ways. But please know that you aren't alone. Ever.  
> I'm always here for you if you need me. You can find me on here, Instagram, or Tumblr.  
> Instagram: monster_chick94  
> Tumblr: http://thedeadmilitia.tumblr.com/


End file.
